


No Mercy

by Takophin



Series: Kinky Pair Series [3]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Dermatophagia, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7235056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takophin/pseuds/Takophin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They hurt each other as much as they prevent each other from hurting themselves to death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Mercy

**1\. Akaya**

_"Zero" Kirihara proudly counted. For once he was able to show a spotless, no bruise arm. This was the first time he could earnestly grin in their weekly 'check-up' session._

_Yanagi stared at the skin displayed, perhaps scrutinizing if there was a needle-sized bruise his eyes had missed. Too bad, Kirihara made sure he aimed everything to his upper arm, and he only needed to roll his sleeve to his elbow._

_"Very well."_

_Kirihara's eyes lit up._

_"This shall be our last session."_

* * *

Kirihara totally did not expect to trick his senior! It took him a few weeks to train himself from hitting his arm and aim it at his upper arm instead to leave his lower arm blemish-less, thus proving to Yanagi that there was no longer any meaning to their meeting.

There was really no meaning to their meeting though, Kirihara reasoned. He was more than capable of sealing his devil-mode inside, or at least as long as his body was still strong enough to continue playing the victim. Whenever someone stupid tried to trigger his devil mode by badmouthing him, he just had to walk away quickly to somewhere solitary and blew all his steam to his upper arm before his malicious alternate self could take over.

He had not considered cases where he _could not_ walk away.

Kirihara could feel his sanity slipping. Running from one corner to another corner as he chased after the ball, rallying shots after shots under the smoldering afternoon sun against one of the most annoying and biggest rival he had in a practice match. Kirihara loathed endurance game, even more so when it's initiated by Seigaku's Viper who was throwing him all sorts of unpredictable shots to every end of the court.

It didn't help that he was losing _and_ they had been playing for an _hour_ straight _AND_ the score was only 0-1, not to his favor.

It was automatic for him to release _it_ when faced with tough opponents. That was how he had been trained to respond during his two years in Rikkai. That was also how he had faced this exact opponent during Nationals last year. The devil was standing right before his mind's door, waiting to pounce it open. Kirihara had to just say the word.

No. He could not. When he persisted to end the session with Yanagi, it was because he believed he could control the devil inside and not to unleash it to someone else instead. He bit down his lip, letting the pain kick his sanity awake so he could channel all his focus into the intense rally he was engaged in.

Kaidoh scored with a curved ball he called 'short snake'. 15-0.

Kirihara bit his lips even harder. That feeling of having a boiling lava was slowly burning him, a sign he knew very well that he was getting very, very pissed off. Kirihara needed to hit something, anything. His grip on his racquet was shaking desperately. He did not even notice a trail of blood trickling down his chin.

"Fsshh…Kirihara, are you okay?" Kaidoh asked from the other side of the court.

_DON'T YOU DARE LOOK DOWN ON ME!_ "I'm…fine. Just continue." Kirihara managed to choke out, wiping the liquid he assumed was sweat with the back of his hand. This was bad. He could not hit himself in the public. Should he excuse himself to the toilet? That would be very poor, especially since he was the captain of the team that hosted this practice match. Kirihara needed to find a way to satisfy this bloodlust before it consumed him. He glared at his opponent, his eyes unconsciously intently scrutinizing his every limb. Damn it! He was _not_ looking for an open target on his enemy!

He could feel something trickling out of his mouth again. As he brought up his left hand to wipe it off, he saw something red smeared on it. As he did so, he caught sight of his curled index finger, to be precise the lower part with most flesh.

Kirihara was not thinking anything when he sank his teeth into it. As expected, pain jolted his nerves awake. Too bad it was not as acute as his usual method, so Kirihara had to put as much force as he could to make it worth something. It felt as if he was trying to rip a meat off its bones.

Suddenly there was less red in his vision and Kirihara breathed a sigh of relief. He did not notice that the devil already had one foot out. He released his fangs from the flesh and let his hand fall to his side, the contours of his teeth embedded deeply to his finger. He could see his opponent staring at him with a confused look.

"Continue!" Kirihara yelled.

Kirihara could see hesitation in Kaidoh's eyes as he served the ball. Kirihara ran to return the serve and cursed. Kaidoh had put less strength to his serve. He probably thought Kirihara was feeling unwell or something. How dare him to look down on him! He'd make him regret- _bite!._ As he chased after the ball, he quickly bit into his finger and released it just as quick. From the audience's eyes it might look like he was wiping sweat from his mouth.

That, or he was trying to pull the meat off the bone of his index finger.

Kirihara went to receive another shot. He could tell there was even less power in this one. Returning the shot with full power, he bit into his finger and ran to receive the next shot. Again, Kaidoh was decreasing his power. Stop with the pitying goddamnit! Kirihara bit again, and returned the shot with full power. Kaidoh was throwing weak shots after another as if he was playing with a freshman. Kirihara bit and bit his finger as he returned every shot with his all but he was no longer feeling anything. By then, the shape of his teeth was mapped so deeply onto the skin that it looked like a dental replica.

That viper was fooling around with him. Kirihara could feel his stomach stirred, on a verge of eruption.

He flung his finger between his lips and bit down with all his strength. Finally, a twinge of pain. His tasting sense was also flooded with a coppery taste, but he did not heed it much thought. He returned the ball and it landed just after crossing the net. Kaidoh did not bother to chase after it. At last, 15-15. Kirihara smirked in mini victory.

His opponent did not look as thrilled though. Neither did his audiences. Kirihara licked his lips, cringing at the coppery taste still lingering very strongly behind. His mind was not registering what that flavor should be attributed to. What, was the shot not good enough? Kirihara furrowed his eyebrow. Also, was it him, or the sun was getting hotter? He also felt like the ground was moving. Did he catch a heatstroke?

Someone shrieked. "Kirihara-buchou, your finger!"

Kirihara glanced down. _Oh…_ So that's why he felt like he was sucking on iron all this while.

It was mostly obscured by the fresh scarlet blood, but he could see a semi-circle dent on his finger where the blood was the thickest, the pink raw flesh exposed to the air. The blood streamed from the crater on his finger, flowing freely down to his nail and falling as multiple droplets onto the green court. Apparently the dent was pretty deep, for he had accumulated a small pool of blood on the ground under his hand already. But why was he not feeling anything?

He dug his thumb into the wound. The pain shot up to his mind and exploded like a grenade filled with tacks. Kirihara let out an involuntary hiss, his eyes squinted shut. All he could see was blinding white pain. He felt like his brain was being fried, the sensation of hot mercury running through his veins and burning his body alive from the inside.

It stayed like that for what seemed like forever. Kirihara was not sure what had happened but the next thing he knew he was lying on the bed in the infirmary. It felt like the world was swaying, like he was drowning in liquid air. At the back of his mind there was this ghost feeling of something hammering his brain, something that Kirihara could not pinpoint. _What just happened?_ Kirihara scowled, pushing himself off the infirmary bed to search for the answer.

The moment he placed his left hand on the bed, he was given a not-so-gentle warning that knocked him back. He retracted his hand immediately, holding it before his eyes for inspection. The first thing that caught his eye was a huge chunk of white. His index finger was wrapped thoroughly in white bandages to the point that it doubled, or even tripled in size.

He brought up the finger to his mouth and opened his lips wide, baring his teeth. Right before the bandaged appendage could touch his lips, realization punched him in the gut and he froze. Flashes of the events that had happened invaded his mind. Tennis. Kaidoh. Devil. _Stay back!_. Finger. Bite. Bite. _Bite!._ Blood. Lots of blood.

"What are you doing?"

Kirihara looked up to the source of the gruff voice. Kaidoh was standing before him, throwing him a very suspicious look. Kirihara raised an eyebrow before he realized that he was still holding his finger close to his mouth and he quickly hid it behind his back. "Nothing." Kirihara said, averting his eyes. Inside, Kirihara was panicking. Shit, did Kaidoh notice? His eyes flew towards his other arm. Still safely hidden under the long sleeve, he noted with a relief.

"What happened?"

Kirihara rolled his eyes. Of course Kaidoh would have noticed. That thing stuck out like a sore thumb, literally. Great. Now he had to face that one dreadful question. If it's about the bruises, he had prepared a pretty good story to cover it up. He briefly wondered if he should try to divert Kaidoh's attention away from the finger by showing him his collection of bruises. He smacked himself mentally for even considering that.

He had to come up with something, quick. "Uh…" Kirihara stammered. He was never good at making up story.

"The ball has a spike in it?"

He tried.

Thankfully, Kaidoh did not seem too interested to push the topic further. "We'll continue our match when you're better." He gestured at the wound and walked away, leaving Kirihara alone with his own thoughts.

Kirihara stared at his freshly injured hand. He balled his hand into a fist, with the bandaged finger sticking out. _Fuck…FUCK!_ Kirihara slammed it onto the bed, relishing in the pain that tore his mind away.

He did not want to admit it, but he _needed_ Yanagi. He needed to beat the shit out of Yanagi, to vent all his rage on him so that he had nothing left to trigger his devil mode. That, or doing this kind of idiotic thing in matches. Thank god he had enough brain to not bite through his finger, but Kirihara did not trust himself to keep all his limbs attached if he kept this on.

His heart sank. He knew what to do. That did not mean he had to like it.

He walked away from the infirmary, ignoring the complaints from the doctor. He ignored the looks, the questions people threw him as he strolled towards the clubroom. He ignored his vice captain that was incessantly nagging beside him as Kirihara opened his locker and retrieved his phone.

Kirihara remembered the great lengths he had gone to end their weekly session, the amount of effort he put just to control his fist from targeting his arm to elsewhere. He recalled the constant stomach ache he had to endure; the days when he could no longer stand straight and how he decided to change it to his upper arm, and he could definitely remember those days when he felt like he could not lift his arm at all.

And he had been so excited to end their weekly session. No more of dealing with the embarrassment of counting down his self-made wounds. No more provocation and no more dreading himself as he felt himself slipping into his devil mode. All those efforts had finally paid off-!

So, what on earth was he doing now?

If Sanada-fukubuchou was there, he would have yelled 'TARUNDORU!' and slapped him for this madness. Even when they had graduated, his life was still in the hand of those three demons, or at least one of them. Kirihara bitterly laughed as he typed the message with his unharmed hand. He could feel anger rising within him but he set it aside for now. He knew he would get to paint the town, or rather Yanagi, red. As much as the sick idea made his stomach churn,

_'Let's meet, senpai.'_

His lips were unwittingly twisted in a grin.


End file.
